


if we were parallel planes

by waterlit



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlit/pseuds/waterlit
Summary: Theirs is a story of almosts. In the end, she can't convince him to stay.





	

It's only their first mission together, and they find themselves imprisoned in Road's sepulchral dominion with no discernible means of exit. And of course Road has to taunt Allen.

"Wait," Lenalee says, but Allen launches himself into the air, ready to save the Akuma even if it means certain death for him.

Lenalee follows after to rescue her colleague. When they are safe and on the ground again, Lenalee slaps Allen hard across his face. True, they are exorcists, and it is verily their sworn duty to destroy Akuma, but it is also their duty to keep themselves safe to fight another day.

"Don't you ever do that again!" she shouts.

In the flickering candle-light, Allen's face is the colour of scoured bones. He doesn't look at her.

When her anger subsides, Lenalee sees the darkness in Allen's eyes. He is as tired of fighting a losing battle, she thinks, as she is. And yet he pushes on, like a boulder on a breakwater against which a sea crashes multiple times a day. She wants to save him, the way he wants to save Akumas and their souls.

She almost pulls him into a hug there and then. But—there is a battle to fight and win first.

* * *

_Allen lies face down in a lake. Lenalee can see his red arm, can see that shock of white hair against the shadowed ripples._

_Allen! she screams, fishing his body out with no small exertion._

_She sits on a ledge and cries. Allen's blood spreads over her skirt, dyeing it a muddy red. Overhead, the sickle moon blinks brightly, grinning down on broken towers and uprooted trees, here where there is only death and a poor parody of life._

When the nightmare loosens its hold on her, Lenalee awakes, tear-stricken.

She sees that Allen's bunk lies empty, the quilt unfolded, and so she creeps out of the room. In the corridors, the shadows collect in limpid puddles, and the ghosts of exorcists past trail after her, their chilly breath frosting the windows. Desperation grows in her heart, and fear snakes its tendrils through her veins.

When she finally locates Allen in the empty common room of the inn, she runs towards him, pressing her face into the warm cloth of his coat. He smells of soap and firewood. He pats her back slowly, uncertainly, and she cries against his chest.

Lenalee lays her right hand against Allen's chest, for support. Below the embroidered rose emblem, Allen's heart beats fast.

He is warm, and he is alive. That is all that matters for now. She almost kisses him on the cheek because she is just _so_ relieved to find him alive and whole.

She tells herself after that she was worried because Allen is now part of her world. But in the back of her mind, doubt gnaws.

* * *

In the shadows of the awning ancient trees, Lenalee presses her hands against the ground. This is where Allen lay last night, his heart pierced and his life ebbing away.

She scratches her nails across the dry soil, as if by doing so she could erase the morning and claw back the terrible night, to save Allen by dint of her will alone.

_This is where he died._

Lenalee almost rises into flight, to travel she knows not where. North, south, east, west—these directions mean nothing anymore. Nothing. She means to seek Tyki Mikk out, and in the throes of her anger she believes she can tear him apart and somehow bring Allen back, her very own Lazarus resurrected from his untimely grave.

Beside her, Lavi pushes down on her shoulder, as if anticipating her reckless rage.

"We have to go," he says hoarsely.

"But Allen—"

"He's gone, Lenalee. You can't bring him back." Lavi's voice is as empty as she feels.

She glares at him, tears in her eyes, streaming down her face, spilling down onto the ground. There is an ache in her chest, something primal and gaping, and that makes it hard to breathe. She sobs, finally, and rises.

When they return to Anita's ship, Lenalee feels a change steal over herself. She has, after all, left a piece of herself back in the forest where Allen met his doom. Her world will never be whole again.

It hurts to know that.

* * *

Lenalee thinks she's going to die.

As an exorcist she well knows that death tails her every single day. And yet, she doesn't want to die. Isn't ready to die. So when the Earl grins at her, and she sees what looks like countless skulls with gaping mouths and sharpened teeth move towards her, she screams.

The skulls nip at her, drawing blood here and there. Her throat constricts.

When she opens her eyes again, the first thing she sees is grey stone. The next thing: grey eyes. Allen comes into view. She sits up, her back sore from resting against hard, cresting rock.

"Allen," she says.

He is so pale he might be a ghost or a figment of her overwrought mind. She brings her hand up against his cheek, slides her fingers across his jaw. He is solid, and warm, and very much alive.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save Suman," he says, placing his palm over hers.

"You did your best," she says, tears streaming down her face. A great warmth spreads through her; joy and pure relief displace the tension from her limbs. "I'm sorry. For causing you to suffer so much. Forgive me, Allen."

"It wasn't your fault," he says, tearing in turn.

"Are you crying?" Lavi says, looking at them. "Allen, you're crying!"

"I'm not," Allen says, rubbing his face against his sleeve.

"Thank goodness we're all safe," Lenalee says, looking up at Allen. She smiles, bright and unyielding, like an evening star.

In the barren, Akuma-infested land of Edo, they look at each other. In that magical moment, something binds them tighter, beyond the bounds of comradeship and beyond the understanding held by those who have experienced suffering and near-death together.

Lenalee almost brushes the tears from his eyes, but doesn't, because at that calamitous moment a sinkhole appears below her, and this throws everything into chaos.

* * *

It's a cold spring evening, and the rain falls lightly, a pale sheet of grey against the dark sky. Lenalee and Johnny join Allen on the deck; together, they watch the river bank slide by.

They talk. Then Allen laughs, without burden, without pain. In this moment, the trauma of his past and the weight of his duties fade into the dusk. In this moment, he thinks not about Mana, thinks not about the haunting shadow he sees lurking in every mirror and every burnished silver plate, thinks not about Leverrier and Link.

For once, Allen looks like the teenage boy he is, talking freely with his friends, sharing jokes, the wind in his hair and a youthful glint in his eyes. He looks almost carefree.

This is how Lenalee will remember Allen when disaster strikes and the Order teeters on the edge of a cliff: one hand on the railing, laughing, as their boat rides the choppy river towards the new Headquarters.

In the gentle rain, they stand side by side, cloaked arms lightly touching. Lenalee feels the warmth of Allen's fingers against her own, feels the heady quickening rhythm of her heartbeat.

She almost turns to him, almost begs for him to promise he'll never leave the Order, will never leave her side. But she doesn't, because they have long days ahead. It's a promise she doesn't need to extract all that soon.

Instead, she smiles up at Allen. Drawing back his hood, Allen presses Lenalee's palm, and says nothing at all.

* * *

When the alarm sounds, Lenalee forgets propriety, forgets duty, forgets the rising danger. She activates her Dark Boots and soars into the night.

Circling through the night with all the fury of a woman scorned, and with eyes as keen as an eagle, Lenalee stops mid-flight. There he is. In a clearing, atop a hill, surrounded by a circle of trees, stands a boy in a white robe.

In the moonlight, his old scars and innocence markings glimmer like crystal pieces in a dark cavern.

"Allen," she calls, landing softly behind him. "Where are you going?"

He stops for her. He turns around, smiles.

"If you leave like this," she says, "we will become enemies! I don't want to fight you!"

"I know," Allen says. The clearing is quiet, and so is his voice.

Lenalee hears her anger ringing loud in her ears. "This isn't a laughing matter! You can still come back, still—"

"I can't," he says. He draws near, and pulls her into a tight embrace.

They stand together in silence for a while, their heartbeats spiralling into the same harsh, speeding pattern.

"I'll always be an exorcist, Lenalee," Allen says against her ear. His cheek is warm against hers.

She quivers inside. "Please," she says, pulling at his collar.

Together, they sink down onto the grass.

"Our paths are different," Allen says. He pulls back, takes her hand in his. "I love you and everyone else from the Order."

"Tell me," Lenalee says, ashes bitter in her mouth, "have you ever—"

Allen looks at her, patient and waiting.

Lenalee wants to say, _have you ever loved me?_ She almost opens her rosebud mouth, almost gives voice to her harried thoughts. But in the end she bites the words back, crushes them with an adamant will. An exorcist cannot love a Noah, after all. So the system dictates.

From now on, their worlds will forever be apart, running along the same parallel planes, but never intersecting, for that is not allowed.

"Can't you stay?" she pleads, once last time. "For me?"

Allen smiles down at her. There is a hint of his pain in the lines at the corners of his eyes.

Lenalee clasps her palms together, legs frozen, suddenly aware of how easily Allen has escaped her embrace.

"The Order will always be my home," he says. He drops a kiss, gentle as falling spring rain, on her forehead.

Then he steps back and disappears into a halo of blinding light; his smile shines bright as the rest of him disappears into the Gate. The doorway shimmers and ultimately shatters into a million slivers of light, too bright for weak human eyes.

She is reminded of innocent children trembling in the dank chamber, unlit save for the column of light that extends across Hevlaska's limbs. She sees innocence burning into bone, remembers the searing smell of hope lost and life unkindled, the rough edges of a shore awash with blood. She thinks of Suman, dancing in the sky, the wrath of God around his throat, a machine of death in his final moments. She thinks of fallen angels, and heaven split asunder.

When she opens her eyes again, she is alone in a silent clearing.

"Allen!" she cries out, arms outstretched, in a gesture of hope.

But she hears nothing, sees nothing. She tries it again. Nothing, again nothing, and yet again nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on FFN in Aug 2016.


End file.
